Lost In Translation
by Kuroki Kitsune
Summary: Okay, I can accept being sucked into a fantasy epic no matter how improbable. But who exactly did I antagonize and why am I a horse? My take on girl-in-middle earth-cliche.
1. Chapter 1

So this is sort of a parody. But it's also a serious attempt at writing a girl-in-middle earth-cliche. It was also a result of a writer's challenge. The challenge being:

"Write a story where the protagonist is in the form of an animal, but with a human mind."

I suppose I could have done this in the fashion of Black Beauty, but where is the fun in that? So I gave myself some restrictions under the guise of realism...or some such notion. Since human minds can't understand animal speech this presents a problem. As does the fact that being an animal means the protagonist can't make human sounds so can't use human speech.

And I swear none of my other AN will be this long, if there are anymore... I just felt the need to clarify.

Disclaimer: if you recognize it as part of Tolkien's genius, it's not mine.

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The first thing she noticed was sensation. The dampness of the grass, wet from a recent rain, lay unpleasantly under her body. She was already cold and wet, though why she couldn't guess. Where was she and how did She get there? Weak muscles rippled under her skin in an unfamiliar way as her mind tried to process everything. They were definitely not the familiar lean muscles built up from years of horseback riding and other adventurous undertakings. Her body twitched, fighting the instinctual panic at being tossed into the unknown. Then came the realization that there wasn't anything against her skin besides the wet grassy ground and a gentle, if a bit chilly, breeze. How did she end up naked? Was this one of those dreams where you had to give a presentation for school but everyone was laughing because you were in your underwear? Her limbs flailed about, bending in ways shrine they shouldn't be able to buy didn't hurt as she momentarily panicked.

How did she get here? Was she kidnapped? Drugged? Were they still here? All of these questions and more ran through her head.

Drugs, perhaps some kind of sedative or paralytic, could account for her body's weakness and maybe the unfamiliarity? She had noticed her sense of smell was much better then it should be. Was that also a result of some drug cocktail? The smell of fresh green grass after a heavy rain dominated her senses. She could also smell some kind of flowers on the breeze. Not knowing or caring enough about flowers to be able to identify more then the basics. Herbs and edible plants were another matter entirely though.

Perhaps, now would be a good time to try the more reliable sense of sight, her rational mind supplied her, Logic and reason, her dear estranged friends. So She opened her eyes, slowly, not wanting to tip anyone off anyone who might have less then pleasant intentions if they were still about.

Her eyes blinked against the brightness of the sun, which had the nerve to be shining right in her eye as she lay on the ground. Her vision was off too. She could clearly see the waving branches of trees directly over head with the brightness of the sun peering between the the canopy. She could also see grass which was odd. She should be only able to see one thing and that was whatever she was facing.

So she was in a forest, somewhere. At least it wasn't nighttime. Who knew what predators hunted here. But why was her vision so odd? Like looking in different directions at the same time. When focusing ahead of herself, looking forward, she could see the trees at the edge of the clearing or small meadow she appeared to be in. Although there seemed to be a blind spot directly in front of her nose. In fact, even trying to go cross-eyed she couldn't see her nose.

At least it didn't appear that she needed glasses anymore.

Next logical step was to try and get up off the ground and dry off. So that's what she did next. Or tried to would be a better description. She rolled over so she was on her stomach even as her limbs splayed about in all directions. She stuck one arm awkwardly in front of herself, not even thinking about hands or how she couldn't feel her fingertips spread against the earth. She tried to turn my head sideways to look around one last time... Except her neck was stiffer then it should be*. Had something happened to her body? Had it been broken somehow? Except she could still feel and nothing appeared to be in pain. Perhaps it was because of however long she had laid there on the ground, it could just be very bad muscle stiffness she told herself.

Her body felt so foreign to her as though it were really someone else's mass that she was steering like a puppeteer does a puppet. She ignored it for the time being, putting it off for tomorrow like the character in a certain well known book.

She had tried to move her head side to side but not up and down yet. So that seemed to be a thing that would be good to know. Okay, neck works to some extent. Next try the head, as she jutted her chin out and up like some stuck up princess and then tucking it down to her chest.

If she had been a cartoon character her eyes would probably be bulging out of her sockets from surprise. For when she saw what was in her current line of sight it wasn't anything she had expected.

She had been expecting an arm, preferably her own, and still attached to a hand and a shoulder. But what she saw was definitely not a hand, an arm, or any other human bit of anatomy what with it being covered in a fine layer of bright copper coloured hair. Like a brand new penny ending in black at the knee and a solid dark hoof.

A hoof.

What the hell was happening to her? She thought before panicking. My body making strange noises. She moved the foreign limb in her vision.

Okay, so she was now somehow a horse. How was entirely irrelevant. Unless there was a way to reverse it... She grasped at that thought. Was there? Could she find it? Why a horse? Even if reincarnation was real, which she didn't believe it to be, weren't you supposed to loose your memories of a previous life? Something about starting anew or some such shit. And she thought that she had read somewhere on the Internet that humans usually reincarnated as humans...

Okay, she tried to calm myself. Panicking, no matter how justified or reasonable a reaction given the situation, was not helpful. First she had to figure out how to stand. She dreaded the process ahead. The last thing she wanted right now is to begin her close acquaintance with the ground. She knew from years of bratty horses and certain bad habits how much fun it was to for the ground to reach up for a hug like a clingy boyfriend. Sometimes the ground even succeeded, and much like the clingy boyfriend drove all the air out of ones lungs while simultaneously trying to acquaint ones ribs with their spine.

She could do this, how many times had she seen horses do this anyway. It didn't seem so hard. Stretching her legs ahead and tucking her back end underneath her she prepared for success. Okay, that's step one down. I heard a nicker beside me so I turned my head to look, using my whole neck like a horse would and not just the top but like a human. I felt proud of myself for remembering that.

That must be the mother, my mother now she supposed Damn that horse was tall, either that or she really was just that tiny. Was that supposed to be encouragement?

Gods, She hoped that she was still a girl. What a weird thought but a perfectly valid worry considering how she was now a horse when last she knew she was definitely human.

She tried to remember the mechanics of a horse as it got up off the ground. She had certainly spent enough time watching them but seldom did she have need to ponder the actual mechanics of movement beyond training.

Okay, front feet in front was as good a start as any, she thought to herself as she flailed about into position. Once she got her spindly legs ahead of her body she then attempted to push up with her back end and...

Plop.

Okay, so maybe she needed practice. Preferably not any more in catapulting herself face first in the ground.

Round two. Try again. Legs ahead, check. Push up...

And over...

This time sideways.

At least she wasn't repeating the same mistakes, just making new ones. Which really weren't any better in results anyway.

Try again, third times the charm.

Legs ahead. Obviously that wasn't quite correct as she had fallen both times trying that same approach. So new approach, she spread them apart a little bit wider for balance.

And up...

Success.

Okay she could do this, she thought moving one foot forward... And was sent promptly flailing sideways as she was thrown of balance. She was beginning to look like Bambi when the Disney character first started to stand. It wasn't exactly a pleasant comparison. She did however manage to catch herself, a good thing because the whole falling thing was getting old. She had to remember that she had four feet to balance now, not two. Which didn't bode well for her future as she had gotten into enough trouble as a human with only two feet to worry about.

Try again...

Hell yeah!

She managed to walk a few steps forward. This time without staggering around like a drunken college frat kid. She could feel her ears involuntarily pricking forward and found it was possible to swivel them around to hear sounds better. Those weren't muscles she was well acquainted with as humans (with the exception of a few who may arguably be closer to monkeys) weren't generally able to move their ears at all.

Of course... Being distracted didn't help her coordination any as it took concentration away from what her new legs were doing. With a rather predictable result when they became entangled. Definitely starting to resemble that scene from Bambi now...

Getting up was easier this time now that she knew how to do it right. Her sarcastic side claimed she would get much more practice in the future no doubt.

After practicing it became effortless to move around and she could do so without measuring each step. Much like when she was human, there was no need to think about the mechanics of walking forward. It was just something one did.

She knew though that she had delayed as much as Was possible. Time to bite the bullet... Or the teat rather, and more suck then bite. Pretty sure that her 'mother' wouldn't appreciate being bit anywhere let alone there.

When she had fed as much as necessary she went back to playing with her body... With herself... Damn it, that sounded so much worse then it was actually meant to be.

What she meant was learning her body's new limits. She knew that horses were prey animals and that there were likely predators somewhere in the world who wouldn't mind a bite or two of some tasty foal flesh.

So she tore around the clearing, seeing how fast Her little body could run. How quickly she could stop, preferably without falling over. After all, in the immortal words of Sun Tzu, if you know yourself and you know your enemy you need not fear a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory won you will also suffer a defeat. But if you know neither yourself nor your enemy, you will succumb in every battle. Given the odds of win, win or lose, or lose, she would choose the options that at least have her a 50/50 chance of survival. So she learned what it was to move in this body, but the novelty was wearing thin. Can she go back to being human now?

She quickly learned that She didn't get any magic language skills when she was reborn or whatever. She still couldn't speak horse any better now then when she was human. She could mimic sounds. And She knew what a few of them meant from observation over the years but if there were actual speech patterns then they would forever remain a mystery. Pity, it would have been interesting to know what went through a horse's mind on a regular basis.

It didn't take her long to notice that after a few hours of observing 'mommy' that she wasn't eating. As someone who had regularly worked with horses she knew full well that that was a bad sign. When she fell backwards trying out her new body and flailed around on her back for a moment the mare moved towards her like a good mamma should. But the mare's walk seemed stiff. She put it down to having just given birth before because she doubted being a horse made it any less painful... But despite writing it off she kept an eye on her.

She did give birth to her after all and the woman trapped in a foal's body felt she owed her that much. Even if she still preferred being human.

Okay, she was human enough to admit there was a little self preservation in there too.

She knew without her dam that she would be pretty much screwed in this tiny body. She was too young to eat grass, not to mention predators.

But throughout the night it only got worse. Twitches along the mare's body, led on to tremors and then stumbling whenever she did walk**. It seemed familiar but she had been an eventer, not a breeder so she only knew a few things here and there about post-birth mares.

Eventually the mare just fell over, her body spasming. Even though she wasn't a vet she knew enough to know that the mare wasn't getting back up. The horse was dying.

And there wasn't anything she could do about it. Even as a human she wouldn't know what to do beyond call the vet before it got that bad.

It might seem cold what she did next but ultimately she was a survivor. There was no way she was going to die in some stupid gesture. Dead was dead and dead people didn't get to feel regret. She had no intention of dying here any time soon and it certainly would if she stayed. Besides there was really nothing she could do except watch the mare die, then die shortly after.

So when the poor mare stopped flailing around from her seizure she went in for milk. Gorging herself she knew that it wasn't likely to find more anytime soon. Which meant, since she still needed milk to survive that her only hope was to find people and quickly.

When she had taken as much as she could, she stepped back, nuzzling along the mare's fallen and dying body like she had seen horses do to each other in the fields at her stables. She hoped it offered some comfort at least, as she turned and walked away.

She could see out of her peripheral vision as she walked towards the only real path out that the mare, her mother in this life she reminded herself, watched her go. With what little strength the mare still possessed she managed to lift her head enough to follow her baby's progress. But still the mare was silent, she didn't call to her. The woman in a foal's body wasn't certain if it was because her mother was so weak by now and couldn't, or if it was because on some level the mare understood her choice to survive. That mare had brought her into this world even though it meant she was a horse now instead of a human, and certainly not her first choice. But the dying mare was still the 'mother' of this body and to some extent herself. She existed now because of that mare. Since she couldn't fix anything then she would at least honour that, by living. But to do that meant she had to survive and for that she needed to find someone who could give her the milk she needed to live. Which meant either hitting up a grocery store or finding humans to bottle raise me.***

*When a horse turns their head they use the entirety of the neck to some extent or another. Humans tend to turn their head from the base of the skull, twisting it along the spine. A horse actually has to move a good chunk of the part of its spine that consists of the neck to look around.

**This is called hypocalcaemia or more commonly 'Milk Fever'. And though uncommon in horses (more prevalent in milk cows and goats) it's not unheard of.

***keep in mind that this is a human mind (soul, spirit, whatever you want to call it) inside the body of a foal. Rather then personifying an animal and giving it human qualities. An actual foal would probably stay with its dam until desperation kicked in when it couldn't get milk and was starting to die from lack of nutrition and dehydration. But humans are colder then that, and often put their own survival above others. Don't forget she still thinks of herself as 'human trapped in a horse' not 'I am a horse, with a human consciousness.' If humans will put themselves over other humans, why would she die for a horse? One that was already dying anyway? Besides, she's not a perfect being anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to my two reviewers. I freely admit I'm a review whore. Thank you to Qoheleth and REMdream for your reviews. And thanks to all those who faved this story.

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She made the choice to follow the edge of the woods. It seemed like a good idea at the time, as it would at least ensure that she didn't get lost and waste time backtracking. Time was certainly not in her favour right now and she couldn't afford to waste what little she had.

There was no way she could remember what the rules were for feeding an orphan foal as she had only ridden and trained horses in her 'previous life' as she was now calling it. She had never been a breeder, that took money she didn't have. She could barely afford to ride as it was there was no way she would have been able to afford the medical bills that come with breeding. So she had seen no point in learning something that held very little interest to her and that she was unlikely to ever need.

She did know foals had to feed regularly. She just didn't remember how regularly or if having gorged herself before leaving on her own would effect that timeframe. But she knew that she had to find a way to get milk and soon.

Her best bet was that there was a a road nearby. Roads meant people. Surely someone driving by in their car would take pity on an orphaned baby horse.

She did eventually find a road. But it was dirt not blacktop, or even gravel. Though thankfully it looked well travelled. She was thankful that it wasn't gravel at least, as the last thing she needed was to pick up a stone in her hooves. Stone bruises, abscess, or otherwise becoming lame would certainly not help matters. In fact it would probably be the death of her in her current vulnerable state.

Looking both ways there was no indication that one direction would lead to people sooner then the other. She she chose randomly, one way was as likely as the other.

She could see the sun rising so at least she would know which way was what. Rises in the East and sets in the West. She had lived on the west coast as a human so that was the direction she chose. Well, that and staring at the sun climbing in the sky all day would only serve to remind her of precious time slipping away.

It was a cool morning but she could already tell it would be scorching by midday. Weighing time vs energy output she decided time was the more dangerous factor and moved from a walk to a trot keeping an eye out for predators. She had hope that if something attacked That the woods might offer some cover, likewise she figured there would be a bigger chance of running into something nasty in the woods then in the open.

It wasn't until about an hour later that she saw what might have been a town. A ramshackle little place to be sure but where there were buildings there were people. The gate was open so she just walked through, following a group of children by the looks of it and hoping nobody noticed the lack of a halter and rope. If she was lucky they would think the foal trailing behind the group belonged to them. She had to suppress the urge to giggle or whatever the horse's equivalent was as she overheard the kids arguing about the proper way to cook mushrooms. The food talk wasn't helping matters either. She followed them around a corner out of sight of the gate, a trick she remembered from video games and figured it made enough sense to try in the real world, and then continued on her own way.

She never realized how small foals were until now. Everyone seemed taller then her, except the kids thankfully. That might be a wee bit embarrassing. And everything smelled. Like walking into the boys locker room after football practice. She wasn't sure if she could just smell things stronger as a foal then as a human but that was not a good thing either. It was like nobody here has heard of a bath before. She could smell some familiar things though and that gave her some hope that despite this weird little medieval reenactment going on here there might be civilization to be found in this town yet.

There was the smell of wood burning, and she was pretty sure that was the smell of weed that she scented a few times though much sweeter then she remember it being. But it was the sights that got to her. Aside from the amount of people wearing dresses, the plain floor length variety. There wasn't a pair of runners to be found anywhere, it was all boots or slippers. There was no sidewalk that she could see and while there were 'vehicles' in the road they were carts often pulled by oxen, donkey or the occasional pony. No cars anywhere.

The people were different too. And she didn't mean just the way they dressed either, though that was strange enough. The men, including some of the boys all had weapons of some kind. Usually a sword or a bow, occasionally a long knife. Even some of the woman carried small knives that wouldn't be practical as a weapon*. She could see some of the shops trough the crowd too. Why someone thought it was a good idea to hang big hunks of meat outside their store was beyond her. Didn't they see all the flies swarming it? Didn't they know how disgustingly unsanitary that was. She didn't understand any of the foreign languages either, which was odd. She couldn't even place them on the globe and given the amount of travelling she had done in her life she should at least recognize a few of them even if she couldn't understand them.

She stopped with a snort of surprise as she almost bumped into a barefoot child with the hairiest feet she had ever seen. Which was saying something as she used to have a brother after all. She immediately chuckled, the sound coming of as a quite whicker, as her mind flash-backed to a favourite book of hers when she had been younger. She remembered falling into the pages of Tolkien's masterpiece and even years later she would return to that story. There were few authors that had quite attracted or held her attention and imagination like Tolkien had. Actually she could name only three others, only one of which was well known. She couldn't help though, except to think he would have made a perfect hobbit.

He was about her height and thankfully spoke English.

"Now where did you come from?" He asked the question obviously rhetorical. She somehow doubted he would expect an answer from a horse. The excitement of having found people was wearing off as she again began to wonder where the hell she was. Exhaustion and a lack of nutrition coupled with a creeping hopelessness was beginning to wear her down and her legs buckled. "Well you can't be roaming the streets and you don't even look a day old." The small hobbit boy as she had decided to dub him in her head, continued to talk to himself. It's not like anyone would know what she nicknamed anyone in her head anyway. Besides she was terrible at names, could remember faces easily but names were another matter entirely. She almost missed a rope being tossed over her neck but it was impossible to miss the rope's slack disappearing as he walked back to wherever he came from and lost in her own head she didn't follow immediately. She did when I felt the tug though. It wasn't as if she had anywhere else to go.

She wasn't really paying attention to the direction they were headed until she saw the familiar sign hanging from a building as they were circling around to the side. 'The Prancing Pony' it read, as she felt a growing sense of dread. She, like most in her generation, was quite familiar with Tolkien's work. Had enjoyed both the books and the movies, though she still preferred the books. The sign was a perfect replica of the image from the movie, even if a bit more run down. It could be just wacky coincidence, after all there were some creepily obsessed fans out there.

She was shown to a stall, which was apparently to be shared with another very small pony. It was fair enough given both their small sizes it wasn't practical for each of them to have their own stall. As the hobbit, which might be a more accurate description then she originally thought, left she pondered some things.

Fact one, she was not human anymore and needed looking after at least until she was able to eat grass and preferably protect herself from any nasties running around. Fact two, everyone here dressed like a reenactment of a earlier time but more realistic then and medieval festival. So either she was somehow back in time, which seemed unlikely. Or the world had regressed to a more primitive time which was more unlikely she thought given humanity's obsession with technology. Or she was actually in Arda, Middle Earth, lord of the Rings world, whatever you cared to call it.

Well, if (and that was a big if. In her books) she was in Middle Earth then at least she would be limited in how much she could effect things. It's not like she could blurt out information so at least she didn't have to worry about a hoard of Saruman's orcs looking for 'that girl from another world' which seemed to happen in far too many fics. She briefly entertained the idea that if someone had spontaneously shown up in Middle Earth before the start of the tale, Saruman wouldn't have turned evil. It would seem that with a sure way to defeat Sauron it would be stupid to align oneself with the losing side, not to mention that it might give the white wizard hope. But limited to this shape as she was there would be no changing destinies. Oh! What about Galadriel? She could read minds. What if she travelled there and... Exactly what? Why would she decide to read a mere horse's mind anyway?

Here and now, she thought to herself as the hobbit came back with a rather fat man and a bottle that was likely (hopefully) filled with milk. Even if it didn't look quite like any milk bottle for babies that she had seen before. While the hobbit, whose name she still didn't know, fed her she eavesdropped on the conversation.

"She's a fine little thing isn't she Master Butterbur? Nobody around these parts has horses that look this good." The hobbit said.

"Nob, whose going to pay for it? We both know how expensive a horse is to keep and look at those long legs, she's not going to be some pony." Butterbur said. It wasn't that the inn master didn't want to keep her, but that he had a business to run and a profit to make. She better then most knew what black holes horses could be to someone's wallet. She would be sucking coin out of his purse until she was at least old enough to work, probably not for another three years. Hell of a time to commit to something when it might not ever pay off. At least back home there were competitions that could earn back some of the money put into them. Here it would be a matter of finding someone keen on breeding or perhaps a horse for hire. People in a small town like this would be more interested in a beast of burden or an animal that can be worked. And there were other options for both that were much cheaper then a horse.

"But she's quality stock and I'll bet people will pay a pretty penny for her when she's old enough to sell. We could breed her and sell the foals." Nob pointed out and she flattened her ears, pinning them back to her head. There was no way in hell she was becoming some broodmare. she barely tolerated human children. Also... creepy, as she wasn't actually a horse.

Butterbur seemed to be considering it. "A year, if she hasn't made money in a year we sell her to recover the losses and maybe make a bit extra." The large round man said.

They agreed and left leaving her to her own devices. Fine, as much as she hated to take advantage she was not sticking around to be auctioned off or bred to whatever stallion they could find. Once she could eat grass she'd make a break for it.

If she as in Middle Earth then she must be in Bree. Given Butterbur's existence and the sign. It also had to be before or after the events of the books as the gates had been easily walked through, there wasn't even a guard there.

So she had two options. she could continue west to Hobbiton, or she could go east. Maybe wait out the war in Imladris, not to mention elves. She would at least have a good idea of when in the timeline she was anyway. She wondered if there was anything she could do as a horse that could help with the war of the ring. But largely, that would depend on who decided she was 'theirs' and where she was at the time.

It was something to ponder over the next few months anyway.

*forks weren't all that common in earlier times and often people carried around an 'eating knife' to serve as both knife and fork.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again to my wonderful reviewer REMsleep for reviewing last chapter (and admittedly the reason I'm posting yet again today.) and my new follower Aye-Sir.

Now we start to meet the beginnings of the Fellowship at last.

I'm also using to remind me of certain events. I tried to reread my old books but... The words have apparently been worn down from too many reads and it's been so long I can't fill in all the blanks anymore.

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The following months passed by uneventfully. She had learned that she was born sometime in early spring and through overheard conversations knew that things were beginning to get rough for travellers. She had hope that as a horse she would not be harassed as much as the two legged variety of travellers. It was getting to be close to the time when she had to ditch this town and she couldn't wait. It wasn't that she disliked the innkeeper or the hobbits but she was tired of the tedium.

She had decided to head further west. If things were going to come to a head she wanted to be there and the best place to watch was from the beginning. If she could manage it the she would like to do something. Besides, on her own she was less likely to be treated like a farm beast.

There had to be some way to show she wasn't an ordinary horse. She was uncertain about how much an elf would know about her. Especially if nobody ever thought to look beyond outward appearances. Would they be able to tell she was different? Would she have a chance at actual communication?

She had learned early on how to get in and out of her stall. She made sure to close the door behind me so the other pony wouldn't escape. Despite what some might have said she could be courteous and respectful when she wanted to. Besides was after all a normal pony, one that would no doubt find trouble if it escaped.

She would leave at nighttime, when everyone including the innkeeper was asleep. She had been gathering supplies for her journey during her nighttime wanderings. She wasn't sure what winter would entail in this part of the world. Slowly she had managed to gather a sack of grain and an old horse blanket that should at least offer some warmth. She had added grooming supplies to the bag just in case if she met a friendly traveler. If she could avoid it she would rather not end up some mangy beast. Water was her biggest concern. There was no way she could come up with that didn't require thumbs to take with her. So she couldn't take it with her unfortunately. She also didn't have a map and would have to rely on her fuzzy memory of something she had barely glanced at a decade ago. Hopefully she would be alright just following the road.

It was better then nothing.

She had grown up in the time she had been lazing around here. She was just over a year old now by her reckoning. She still hadn't found a mirrored surface so aside from what little she could see of her own body she didn't even know what She looked like. But she wasn't done growing yet.

As Nob braided her mane, which had grown out of the little tuff of hair she had when stumbling here originally, she listened to his prattling. It's not like he expected a response but if he felt like thinking out loud she certainly wasn't one to stop him. It's not like she could go up to a person and start asking questions. And the information amongst all the useless trivia of a small town was quite useful. She thought she should leave sometime soon. As fall was already here and as tempting as it would be if she didn't leave now she would have to remain until the hobbits came through Bree. She knew winter spent in a warm stall with plenty of food and being looked after was different then in the wilds.

There had been people here and there who passed through the Prancing Pony who had stopped at her shared accommodations. If one of the hobbits looking after her or Butterbur were there they sometimes commented or offered to buy her.

Some of my guests, as she had taken to calling them, were quite the surprise. A few Rangers had passed through a few times, nobody she knew of at least. Old Ferny or whatever his name had been also tried to wheedle out a deal with her flustered caretakers. She had put her ears back and charged the stall door, slamming into it with my front hooves. She hadn't forgotten Bill the pony or how he had been treated by the man who seemed to shower only once a month.

He had tried to take her the next night but she gleefully caused such a commotion that he was forced to abandon his intent. Figures, didn't matter what world you went to, humans were as untrustworthy as ever.

After the hobbit had left she waited until near midnight before opening her stall door and sneaking out. It really was a simple lock. Literally all she had to do was pull the lock up. It was only a piece of wood on a pivot secured in a wooden hook. So long as the latch was resting in its hook, she couldn't just push herself out. There wasn't even a bottom catch. The locks at her old stables that she had ridden at were more difficult.

She snuck out as quietly as a horse could and made her way to the bag she had previously hidden in a bush that was struggling for life. She had unfortunately no means of carrying it besides in her mouth so it would have to do. The horse blanket she could just pull over her head and with a little effort it would work. Without fingers she wouldn't be able to do up the straps though. She had found a way around though, using her teeth and lips she had managed to secure at least the front strap so she could wiggle into it like she was wearing a cape. Unfortunately this meant it was hanging more loose then it should. She had chewed at the other straps until she could plant a hoof and pull them right off.

The town looked odd seeing it at night without people wandering in the streets. It was quiet without them and the businesses, except the bars, or she supposed they would be called taverns here, open. But while that meant she was less likely to run into anyone who would raise an alarm about the loose horse it also meant any noise she made would definitely carry. She spared a thought for how ridiculous she would look to someone if they spotted her.

Making her way to the west gate she noticed a flaw in her flawless plan. Unlike the day she had come here, the door was shut and there was no group to blend in with for cover. She couldn't see the guard but that didn't mean there wasn't one.

Horses, it turned out, didn't have the best night vision. Or perhaps her eyesight was as bad as when she was human.

She walked up carefully placing each hoof with care aware of how much my coat would seem to glow against the dark. Reaching the gate she examined the lock. It didn't seem too hard, just a simple deadbolt. She had been worried when she saw the old gate closed it might be more complicated. Putting the bag down carefully she grabbed the bolt in her teeth and slowly slid it across, ears pivoting in all directions for any indication that someone had heard. If there was a guard they would likely be close enough to hear any noise she made. As she nudged opened the gate using her nose, to her misfortune it gave a loud creak and her body froze as her ears fixated on the sounds of a person stirring.

She heard the guard shouted he spotted her and abandoned any attempt at subtly. The gate was flung open, banging loudly into the wooden wall as it pivoted along its rusty hinges. She quickly snatched up her bag to flee into the night. Surely they wouldn't bother to follow her? She was obviously spotted so they would know she was merely a horse not some random person up to no good. Well, the no good part perhaps. To be fair, there were some who might take it to mean she was fair game to be claimed if she could be caught.

She travelled down the road as fast as she dared. Well aware that she could loose my covering if she wasn't careful, or worse it could slip to the side and she could step on it causing a fall. When she was tired she slowed down. She used her ears to search around her, hoping to find water that she was already in need of. Since she couldn't hear anything that might indicate water was nearby. She knew from years of growing up on what was affectionately (sometimes less so) referred to as the Wet Coast that it would probably rain tonight if the smell of the air was any indication. That was one thing her previous human life living in a city she mostly hated had taught her, was when rain was coming. After all it hadn't been called the Wet Coast for nothing.

She knew it would take about a week to get from Crickhollow to Bree if she remembered the books correctly. But if the movies were to be believed then it would only be a day and a night. Her bets would be on the books since Hollywood loved to take shortcuts.

She found herself a place to graze off the beaten road. She made certain to avoid things that would blatantly show her passage like puddles and broken plants. The last few months had taught her to accept the weird horse behaviour she would have to endure. Besides she wanted to save the grain for when there would actually be need of it.

As it started to rain she moved into the shadow of a great big tree with a thick canopy. She didn't know what kind it was but she could see the ground under it was dry while everything else was quickly becoming soaked. Pulling the blanket with her teeth and rubbing against the tree to readjust it from her run she huddled close to the trunk and tried to stay dry.

The next few days were much like the rest. Trotting along until she tired and drinking from wherever she could find moisture, though she drew the line at muddy puddles. She skirted around the Old Forest as she hadn't forgotten the Barrow-downs or the Barrow-wights and had no intention of finding out if they had an interest in her or not. Perhaps she was human enough to be caught and while she did know the weird little song Tom Bombadil had taught the hobbits she couldn't use it in this form.

By the time she circled around to Crickhollow it was September... Late September. She had thought that it would take less time and had hoped to actually make it to Hobbiton. But sadly that wasn't meant to be.

She was munching grass when she saw the four hobbits sneak out towards the Old Forest. She watched for a bit before following after them.


	4. Chapter 4

I have gotton a surprising amount of favs for this story. Thank you, to all of you who faved and the people who reviewed. Yes, I've said before but I really am a review whore. On with the story. If you hadn't noticed by now I'm following mostly the books as there was so much the movies left out. Though I understand that they needed to condense the thing to a semi reasonable amount. (Still pissed at Arwen for stealing Glorfindel's horse.)

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The early morning was dark and the land lay under a heavy mist. She kept as close to the hobbits as she could, not wanting to lose them so early on. If they weren't riding ponies and if she couldn't hear the clip clop of hooves not bothering to be quiet she very well might have lost them anyway despite how careful she was being. Merry, or at least she thought it was Merry anyway, was leading them. A disaster waiting to happen if you asked her.

Despite the early hour it was hot and stuffy under the trees, seemingly trying to smother her with the very air that was a necessity for living. She saw the hobbits glance behind them a few times and hoped it was her they sensed watching and not some nasty following us.

It was hard to follow the path as it seemed like the trees were moving to block us at every turn. She never actually saw them move but she would swear the path would be leading one way and then it would subtly shift in another direction. She could hear one of the hobbits, probably Merry, worrying about the direction and she guessed they were lost already. While the hobbits had a brief discussion she snatched up a few mouthfuls of grass while before they could move on.

When we started again it didn't take long to reach a small River. Apparently this was bad as Merry seemed upset. Not that she cared as she knew they would make it out so long as there was no interference on her part. Still following the path she took the time to appreciate the woods even if they were dark and a bit creepy. There just weren't many places like this back home, not ones you didn't have to spend a lot of time traveling to and more money to get into. She had always loved the woods, often disappearing for days whenever she could manage it. Her few friends had jokingly commented that with her love of wood and wave there must be an elf in her family tree somewhere. Her family's tendency to live a long time without their minds declining (until they just kinda stopped) was another point they teased her about. She was so caught up in her surroundings that she hadn't noticed that she almost walked right out from under cover.

The hobbits, and consequently their ponies, had stopped. It was so warm here and she had been up on and off last night knowing she couldn't afford to miss the group when they snuck out. She hadn't had much sleep and her body was begging for it as her eyes slowly drifted closed.

It was Frodo's panicked yelling that woke her up, jerking her awake with a start and an unladylike snort... Or maybe it was ladylike. She was a horse after all and what are manners to an animal?

How could she have forgot about Old Man Willow? Perhaps because it had been so long since she had read the books or maybe because the movie cut out half the scenes. Either way, here was Bombadil right on time looking absolutely ridiculous in a blue coat and yellow boots. Kinda reminded me of that bear from some children's picture book I had read as a very small kid.

The tree had tried to eat the two young hobbits but Bombadil got them out. He invited them to dinner and so they went to follow him.

She however got the surprise of her life when he turned around and called out to her from where she was certain that she was concealed. The look on the hobbit's faces were hilarious as she stepped out from between the trees head hung down in a manner quite like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The hobbits might have sensed that they were being followed, or maybe they were just paranoid. Though was it really paranoia when a tree had tried to eat you?

Bombadil just turned around again, singing his weird songs and no doubt smiling. She wondered what or who he was. She knew he had some kind of power over the forest he made home and Gandalf had hinted that he was ridiculously old. But other then that she had no working knowledge of him. Perhaps it was only written of in one of the other books of Tolkien's Middle Earth. Admittedly she hadn't read them all yet but she had read a few of the other stories like the Fall of Gondolin.

Either way she knew he was not a malignant creature whatever he was. So she followed along with the hobbits and sat down to a feast. She would freely admit to gorging herself on apples and other horse food. She may even have tried to steal a little something of one of the hobbit's plates.

After dinner it was to sleep we all went and she chose to stand guard over Frodo, and by proximity, the rest of the hobbits as well. Frodo's dreams seemed to disturb him but she couldn't for the life of me remember what it was about, other then it was prophetic to some extent.

Upon waking it was pouring rain and she would have sincerely killed the little hobbits if they had tried to get her to go out in that. She had hated the wet and cold even as a human and that hadn't changed one bit since coming here. Thankfully everyone agreed to stay inside and she stood fascinated at the tales Tom Bombadil told. Some of them she recognized from previously reading the books. When Frodo asked him who he was Bombadil's reply was hardly satisfying. But she wondered if he really was 'the Eldest'.

Although she was a little bit interested in Bombadil's reaction to Frodo's story. Frodo even gave him the ring and she had to wonder at the difference between now and the end of his journey. He hadn't even hesitated. Instead of disappearing when Bombadil put the ring on it did nothing. As if it were an ordinary piece of metal and not the centre of all evil. Instead he made the Ring disappear before handing it back.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Frodo then tried the ring on himself with the predictable result. She wondered since the Nazgul seemed to be able to better find him with the ring on, according to the movies anyway, if they would now have better knowledge of just where he was. Could that, combined with having started in Crickhollow and the logical destination of Imladris be how the Nine knew the hobbits would be in Bree? She still found it startling to see him just vanish like that though, even though she was expecting it. Disconcertingly was even.

She wasn't sure what prompted Frodo to try and sneak away but clearly the ring's invisibility couldn't hide him from Bombadil.

When everyone settled back down again for one last night, Bombadil warned us away from the Barrow-downs. She knew the hobbits would find that particular trouble anyway. They learned the little song of Bombadil's and she mentally sung along, not entirely sure it would work for her.

Morning came and we set off. This time she was openly accompanying the hobbits. By midday they had decided a nap was in order. She debated on whether or not she should run ahead. She had retained enough of her humanity to have been effected by Old Man Willow and clearly Bombadil thought she was something besides an ordinary horse. He had spoken to her as if he would to another person.

She ended up staying warily awake snatching up grass where she could find it. When night fell the mist moved in making the world look dark and forbidding. There was danger in the air and whether it was strong enough that even her normally oblivious self could pick up on it, or her horse instincts were kicking in was anyone's guess. Thoroughly freaked out she nosed the hobbits trying to get them up. Earlier in the day she had pointed herself directly at the exit but in the fog we still somehow got turned around. She could hear the hobbits as the barrow-wight took them and something appeared in front of her. Before she could figure out what it was she was losing consciousness.

She woke to a scream as Frodo slashed the barrow-wight's hand clean off. Her body lay at the feet of the hobbits so she couldn't see Frodo move. But she could hear him start to sing the song that she had thought was so silly sounding when she first heard it.

Her body was draped in finery. When she was able to get back to her feet she took stock of her thankfully still alive self. From the limited view that she could see of what she was wearing it reminded her of one of those fancy costumes that Arabian horses sometimes wore.

She could feel the leather of the halter around her head. Dangling bits, hung at intervals from it. It was an odd feeling as when she had stayed in Bree she had never needed a halter. Since they felt cold she assumed some kind of jewels or metal rather then tassels. She shook her head side to side at the unnatural feeling of something around her head. Braided into her mane were tiny bells that she heard as she shook her head around.

Tilting her head at an odd angle she could see that she had a collar of intricately designed metal squares resting at the base of her neck starting over her withers going around her neck over her shoulders and looping back to her withers. There were gold chains dangling from the base of the collar hanging down mid chest in a scalloped design. From the chains hung an alternation of bells and green jewels that sparkled in the sunlight.

Turning her head around she found her warm blanket had been replaced with a rectangle of dark green cloth hanging over her back, the short sides facing the ground. The border of it was intricately embroidered with a swirling pattern of vines and leaves a few inches thick all around. Where a saddle would lay there was a pattern of a sunburst instead and on either side a tree embroidered gold with little round green jewels interspersed with gold beads. The bottom edge on either side hung green jewels. All of which was held to her by an unseen strap that went under her belly. She resisted the urge to look between her legs to see if that was just as heavily decorated. She was beginning to sense a theme.

Her tail too, had been braided and woven with a thin leather strap that again contained those green sparklies. She quite liked it. She was sure that since everything else matched that the leather of her halter was probably black as it would then match the trim and show up well against her colouring.

Someone had brushed her down as well. Though she had been brushed at Bombadil's the wild had still left its mark in the day's travel. Someone had taken great care to oil her hooves and brush her until she gleamed.

She was stunning and there was no way she was letting the hobbits untack her as she posed and pranced in the sunlight to the amusement of her companions. Though it probably wouldn't do for keeping unobtrusive there wasn't anyone to see her here that she need hide from.

She had been human once after all and vanity was very much a human trait.

When the hobbits tried to approach her with the intent no doubt of divulging her of all the pretties she sidestepped away and pinned her ears. The universal horse sign for 'fuck off'.

It didn't take long for the hobbits to change into clothes that Bombadil had brought and pick up a dagger each. The rest of the barrow-wight's treasure was scattered in the sunlight.

Bombadil, no doubt fearing we would get into trouble decided that he would accompany us to the edge of the woods, suggesting her old home The Prancing Pony to stay at. She knew that she couldn't follow them in there. For one, she hadn't so recently escaped from a stall at a certain inn they were headed to and Nob would recognize her no doubt about it. (She hadn't forgotten the whole use her for breeding idea either. Nor had she forgiven it even if they had no way of knowing she wasn't really a horse and hadn't had a chance to follow through.)

She would circle around and meet them on the other side. Well out of sight of the gate just in case. Of course, she had my own reasons. Primarily if she stayed with them then they would never buy poor Bill and she couldn't live with that. So when the hobbits stepped into the open she took off and away.


	5. Chapter 5 (with updated AN)

**As fanfiction dot net is being dickish, I will post the updated note on chapters old and new here instead.**

 **So I went back and edited the chapters so that I'm not bouncing between POVs. I've also corrected the typos and spelling errors. I _do_ know the difference between there their and they're even if it doesn't always show. Honestly with how bad some of the spelling/grammar was and the constantly shifting POVs I'm surprised anyone kept reading let alone the fact I'm still getting favs when I haven't updated recently.**

 **You don't have to go back and read it as nothing much has changed, I did a little expanding on some things which sees a bit longer chapters. I come from a very much military family (every twig branch and leaf for the last however many years since the second crusade) so I've pretty much been taught the tell-don't-show method of writing. Which doesn't really work on anything except writing reports. So I've gone back and did some readjusting for a more show-don't-tell approach (or tried at least).**

 **Update on next chapter should be in the next day or two. Assuming of course that the site cooperates and let's me add new chapters at all.**

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She was glad that the wraiths arrival in Bree would mean that the hobbits would depart much later then anticipated, because when the Nazgul had approached the small town it had set a fear in her that made her flee. It was a good thing she didn't flee to far and that she was at least semi-familiar with the area from when she had first arrived here.

It still took her time to retrace her steps though and by the time she got back she wanted nothing more then to shed that ridiculous costume and get cleaned up. It reminded her of those stupid school uniforms she had to wear at certain points in her education. Uncomfortable and irritating, while constantly managing to get in the way of everything.

Not to mention how it seemed to catch on everything. The bells mocking her with their cheerful jingle as her mane got tangled on some branches that she had tried to delicately move through.

Except she was a horse and delicate wasn't really something their large bodies were suited to. Graceful certainly, beautiful definitely. Delicate though? Not so much.

She had a small forest tangled in her hair and the elaborate collar had almost managed to choke her half a dozen times. The stupid cloth on her back was sitting crookedly and pulling on one side as its complex design along the edge caught on everything. The strap securing it had twisted, pinching and rubbing uncomfortably. She could confirm now from the amount of chafing that it to was leather. She was really regretting her vanity right now.

She paced just around the bend of the road. An unusual sight for a loose horse but at this point she didn't care what anyone saw. The bells in her mane were muffled by the small forest growing in it at least. If those hobbits didn't have a brush with them...

Finally she heard the hobbits chattering away and her ears pricked forward. As soon as they came into sight she rushed up to them, shaking her head and pawing the ground impatiently. Now how the hell was she supposed to convey that they should take this shit off her right now?

But somethings didn't need verbalization or else she really looked that bad. It was the ranger who stepped forward whispering words in what she assumed was Elvish and divested her if the Damn Costume as she was calling it.

They couldn't take it with them and when it was pulled off her and dropped to the ground she gave it a kick for good measure sending the two mischievous hobbits into laughter while the other pair of the hobbits just grinned. She didn't miss the Strider, or Aragorn, or Estel... whatever he was calling himself these days, pocketing the jewels that were still attached to the bottom edge. No doubt they would fetch a price if he could find a buyer... or perhaps he just liked sparklie things too, she thought with a snort.

The rest, the stuff braided in her mane and tail would have to come out later. Along with a good brushing and deforestation. This wasn't the place or the time and they were already delayed enough.

She nuzzled up to the scruffy ranger in appreciation. It's a pity she was a horse...and that he was taken. But then again woman weren't so forward in this world so perhaps it was for the best. Finally free of that trap of fabric and pretties she took stock of everyone else. Her head shifting back and forth between the group's individuals.

Bill the Pony was much worse for wear then the books had lead to believe. It was a wonder the poor beast was even standing. Making her decision she grabbed a bag in her teeth and pulled. Aragorn and the hobbits moved to stop her and she jerked back out of their reach.

Apparently that was not the way to make her point.

Charades it was then. Horse charades at that too.

But how to act out 'put those bags on me' without being able to grab them and show what she meant was the problem. Once again she lamented the loss of fingers. If she still had hands she could have gestured by pointing to the bags and then at her even if she couldn't verbally communicate.

Well, a muzzle was kind of like a big finger right?

Once again she repeated the action of grabbing the bag with her teeth but this time she turned her neck, tapping her side with her nose before pointedly staring at the group. Who simply stared back confused. She had thought she was being straightforward but apparently not. We're all humans this dense? Had she been this dense before and was just realizing it now? Or was it just these people that were dense?

Fine, she'd have to get more creative. She walked up to the man and poked at his hands until he reflexively went to pet her head. In a quick movement she twisted, catching his sleeve in her teeth as he tried to push her away. She yanked him towards the pony and placed his hand on the straps that held the gear to Bill's back before letting go. Then she repeated her earlier actions before staring pointedly at group with a snort.

"I think she wants to carry the bags herself, Pip." She heard Merry not so quietly whisper to his cousin. She eagerly nodded her head in the up and down motion that was the universal sign for 'yes'.

Surely they would get it now? Merry had literally just spelled it out for them.

"Does she understand us do you think?" Pippin not so quietly whispered back.

"Of course not, she's just a horse." Sam replied making her snort and turn her body deliberately away from the hobbit to stare down at Pippin. She nodded her head up and down again in the most deliberate way she could at the young hobbit. She could hear Aragorn mutter something suspiciously but as it wasn't in the Common Tongue she didn't know or care what he had said.

But it probably was unnatural for a horse to understand human speech. Or hobbit speech as the case may be.

Not that she cared because if they kept to yes or no questions she would at least be able to communicate somewhat. Better then everyone thinking she was a mere dumb beast anyway.

Sam, she decided, would be ignored until he had suitably apologized and if that apology came in the form of apples she might even forgive him. It would be hard but she would manage it somehow. All in all they did eventually shuffle things over leaving the pony unburdened for the time being.

She knew that with the events that would happen at Weathertop, the pony would have to pick up some of the work too. Hopefully he would be in better condition by then.

Moving out the human turned horse trotted up and down the hobbits led by the Dúnadan. For now though the pace was perhaps fast for the hobbits unused to such journeys it was easy for her, even playing pack mule.

When we finally did stop to rest, while the hobbits took care of brushing herself and Bill down, Sam cooked. Strider had taken off somewhere, probably to look around. By the time he had come back and we were to set off again her mane and tail had been detangled and the bells and jewels that had decorated them shoved in a pack. She had been careful to keep her head lowered while they worked as she had by this time grown tall enough that they would only be able to reach her withers otherwise, and only if they stretched a bit.

At least she knew all this traveling would be good for her muscle development later. In the next few days they settled into a routine.

It wasn't until we reached Weathertop that she became nervous. She hadn't forgotten the irrational fear that had taken over her the first time that she had encountered the nine and that time she hadn't even confronted them.

She also knew that Frodo had to be stabbed. Otherwise, if she meddled in the story things might not turn out right in the end. Without being stabbed would Frodo really leave with the other three ring bearers after the destruction of the One Ring and the downfall of Sauron? Would the ring hold more or less power over him?

She knew that without Sam the quest would have failed in the same way as when Isilder refused to chuck it in the first time. She still thought Elrond should have just pushed him, would have saved thousands of lives.

Honestly if the elf lord had just shoved his one time friend into the stupid volcano so much could have been saved. But then again, Bilbo had needed the ring to escape Gollum. But Gollum would never had gotten his hands on the ring if it had been destroyed then. He would not have become the haunted thing he was now. The coming battles would have never occurred and Saruman would have remained the benevolent White Wizard. Theoden would not have lost a son and there would have been no battle of the Hornburg. But then the Witch King of Agmar would still be around without Eowyn sneaking out to battle...

It didn't matter anymore anyway. What was done was done and the past was gone.

She stood her ground waiting nervously for the inevitable. Aragorn had been watching her all day, perhaps because of my uncharacteristic nervousness. Or perhaps because of her apparent intelligence. We had been having a staring contest of our own until she caught what had distracted the hobbits.

"Well we got to call her something. She deserves a name at least." Sam said, to which she agreed. It was tiring being called 'the horse' or the more ambitious 'her'.

Sam had attempted to apologize, holding an awkward conversation with an animal and offering up some of his apples. He may also have caught me with my nose in the bag once we broke for camp that night. She just gave him a look (related to the disapproving parent look but not quite the same) and stole one more apple before wandering into her own corner and chomping it noisily.

But a name was something that would be useful to have. Except that they kept coming up with more and more ridiculous things between the three hobbits. Some of which she was sure were just Sam's way of getting back at her. Really, did she look like an Ellie? She wished not for the last time that she could talk, ask them what the hell were they thinking? Did she look like some hobbit lass to them? The hairy feet alone would drive her nuts.

Strider and Frodo just sat in their respective areas wearing matching conspiring grins. "What about Hannasiel?" Aragorn suggested to which Frodo gave a light chuckle. She looked back and forth between the two, just the other day she had bumped a certain ranger, entirely by accident I assure you, and he ended up falling into some prickly bushes. And not saying that she had helped or anything but if she had helped then she could assure anyone that he very much deserved it for eating the last of the apples. "It is a name meaning 'Intelligence' in Elvish." He clarified at the hobbits bewildered looks.

She stuck her tongue out at him, shaking her head side to side. It had taken them awhile to stop treating her like a regular horse but eventually they stopped.

"How about Siladhiel?" Frodo put in. "Her coat certainly is bright." Meanwhile she tried to remember the small amount of Elvish that she had known from before she came here and was a little more of a die hard Tolkien obsessed geek. Didn't that name mean something like shining? She snorted and shook her head. She wasn't some kind of mobile night light even if She did have Sam to thank for my beautiful well brushed and bright coat.

"How about Authiel?" Strider replied no doubt amused that she didn't understand more then a few words in Elvish and most of those not related to names.

"Battle maiden?" Frodo translated, pretending to think about it. Technically she supposed they could have called me whatever they wanted and there wasn't much that she could do about it. "I suppose it almost fits." Frodo mused.

"Miriel," Pippin supplied suddenly. She couldn't remember much but she did know that 'Mir' used in a name meant jewel because she had looked up once what BoroMIR and FaraMIR meant. She certainly wasn't going to complain about being compared to a jewel.

"What?" Pippin exclaimed. "I know some stuff."

"We know you know some things, just never knew it would be anything useful." Merry replied with a bit of humour.

"I listened to Bilbo's stories too. It's just that Elvish is a hard language to learn and I only know a few words." Pippin said, lamenting his inability to sit still and learn. Really though, most young hobbits had heard of Bilbo's adventures from him at some point. While Pippin had never felt a need to explore the world like Bilbo had he enjoyed the stories the old hobbit had shared.

Seeing the hobbit look so upset she knew that she had to do something. Besides, from what she remembered most people never really took either of them seriously until the sacking of Isengard. They seemed to be there as more comic relief then anything else. She understood all to well how much it sucked to always be brushed off and when you did open your mouth to say something smart everyone looked at you with surprise. As if they had only just then remembered that you were there.

She nodded my head up and down in approval. She could certainly learn to live with the name. It was not a bad name even and it made the hobbits happy.

"Miriel it is then." Strider confirmed. She doubted anyone really cared what she was called because in a lot of ways they still though of her as a clever horse. Intelligent yes but still a horse.

Night was coming and with it the Nine. She tried to remember where Gandalf was in all this and if the riders north, south, east, and west had been sent out yet from Imladris.


End file.
